


Into the Fire (Redux)

by Rikako



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Bondage, Dubious Consent, F/M, Femdom, Humiliation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rewrite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2018-10-09 04:33:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10404027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rikako/pseuds/Rikako
Summary: Vulpes turns to the Courier when he deserts a Legion under Lanius' rule. Without enough time before the battle for the dam for him to prove trustworthy, she puts him to work another way.Rewrite of my other fic of the same title, originally written for the kink meme.





	1. Into the Fire

Vulpes stood on the strip, in front of the Lucky 38. There hadn't been a point between there and Fortification Hill where it hadn't been visible. Even at night, it shone bright in the middle of the desert. Looking back at the path he had taken, he felt a bit like a moth, blind to anything but the light. Blind to any danger the light might hold.  
  
He should have listened to how he tried to justify it to himself, hear how stupid he had sounded. The Courier and her friends had finished their slaughter of the Fort, and had already returned to their own side of the Colorado. The irradiated state of Cottonwood Cove was his first warning. Cursor Lucullus was the only survivor, having had the common sense to keep a radiation suit handy. With the truck carrying a shipment of radioactive waste on the edge of the overlook and all. He was a coward for having hid when the sniper had started to pick off those that weren't collapsing of radiation poisoning fast enough, Vulpes had thought, but it would have been foolish, and would have left him without a reliable way up the river.  
  
It was up the river that he met his next warning sign. They had known that the Courier was bound to strike eventually, but not this soon, and not this hard. Not a single living thing remained in the camp, the only sound was the crackling of fire. The path to his lord's tent was soaked with blood, strewn with bodies. He already knew what he would see, but he needed to actually see it. The dry, blood-soaked ground cracked under his feet. He found Caesar's tent empty the Praetorian guards gone too, but a pyre burned in the arena. He stood in front of it for a while, staring at the dark shapes inside the flames. He wasn't sure how long he had been there when he finally left.  
  
He had traveled to New Vegas and back many times. West up the road to Camp Searchlight, then north onto Highway 95, which he would follow until he reached Freeside's East Gate. Between Searchlight and Novac he didn't come across much. A few geckos, a merchant and mercenary. No Vipers where they used to make their camp. The Courier had long since wiped out any that dared to show their face. Not that it made a difference. They had learned to avoid him after he had demonstrated the proper use of a ripper. It had taken a while to get the blood out of his suit though, so he stopped wearing it any earlier than Freeside. Made him look like an easy and rewarding target.  
  
The night spent in Novac was a sleepless one, spent wondering what he was doing. He set out again before daybreak, while the Lucky 38 in the distance was still the brightest thing in the sky.  
  
It was night again when he found himself approaching the gate to The Strip. His last chance to turn back. He cast one last glance up at the tower as he entered the gate. He could have sworn he had seen a glint in one of the windows.  
  
Now he found himself gazing up at the tower, just out from under the awning. There was no turning back. This was her turf now. The tower was bright, too bright. It might as well have been the middle of the day. He blinked the after image of the tower out of his vision and turned as he heard someone approaching. Something suddenly hit his stomach, and the last thing he felt was the electrical jolt of a cattle prod.

* * *

Gradually, Vulpes became aware of his surroundings.  A conversation was taking place, nearby he could tell, but the words were unclear. Unusually so for how close he had to be. Careful not to alert his present company to the fact he was awake, he subtly shifted just enough to see if he was bound. It seemed he was, arms behind his back, wrists crossed, ankles pulled up to meet them. He tested the tension of the rope, the size of the loops, hoping for enough of a weak point to free himself. No such luck, his captor knew what they were doing. He'd have to see how this played out.  
  
"...not ...killed him the moment you saw him on the Strip... But that's exactly what I'm saying! This could be an assassination attempt, or sabotage or..." Finally it seemed his mind was clearing up. It was a man's voice, most likely the Follower's doctor. Too much emotion obvious in his words for it to be the sniper. Simply too many words, at that.  
  
"What could he possibly do like this?" a voice that was clearly the Courier's laughed. "I've got the best security detail right here. Though if I am killed, I expect you to play me up as some sort of martyr, got it?"  
  
Vulpes realized he had been set on a bed when the Courier's weight made one side sink down. "Well, enough about that, I'm sure our guest is eager to explain himself, isn't he?" The Frumentarius tensed as she brushed her hand against his hair.

 


	2. Chapter 2

"It seems I can't fool you, Courier.  I would have been... disappointed, otherwise."  Vulpes tried to move to look her in the eye, but his attempt was halted when she shoved his head back down onto the mattress.    
  
"Well, where to begin?  I witnessed the aftermath of your slaughter at Fortification Hill.  Luck, if you could call having your plans ruined all at once that, spared me.  Having been delayed, I did not return until after you and your friends were on their way back to Vegas."  
  
"Luck? Vulpes, you wound me. I thought you knew me better than that. No, you're alive because I decided you shouldn't have died with the others. For all you know, that means I have something more creative in mind." She paused to let that set in. "I had just enough distractions set up before I set off that you would have to see to at least one of them yourself."  
  
"Killing the Omertas, exposing Curtis as a Frumentarius, and sabotaging the alliance with the Great Khans are no more than distractions to you? I can't begin to describe how far you set the Legion back," Vulpes snapped, before growing quiet. "...but none of that is my problem anymore."  
  
"Hm, I guess it isn't anymore, is it? It's not like I did all of that just to distract you. For instance, the NCR tasked me with hunting down the spy within their ranks. So I did. They didn't say anything about preventing the destruction of the monorail though. I think that helps me out more than it does you right now though."  
  
Vulpes narrowed his eyes as the Courier rolled him over onto his back so he could meet her eyes.  The doctor sat just beyond her.  "So you do as you please and use semantics to justify yourself?"  
  
"It's just a game I play with the NCR, helping out where it benefits me more than them in the end.  But please, go on.  Based on what you've said so far, it wouldn't be in your best interest to let me make my assumptions on what you're doing here at this point."  
  
"I've told you about the Legate before," he began carefully, "a great warrior, but unsuited to lead.  He calls my tactics dishonorable and would have me on a cross for my acts at Nipton or Camp Searchlight alone, and now he has all the authority to do so."  
  
The Courier got up and began to pace back and forth in front of him.  "You deserted to escape Lanius.  But now what?  Did you think I would grant you asylum?  Or perhaps that you'd convince me to let you into my little group of friends here?  That I'd trust you to fight alongside me at the Hoover Dam?  Did you just want a death Lanius wouldn't permit you to have?  Swiftly with my bullet through your brain, or honorable, one on one with machetes like in the arena?"  Her face darkened as she stopped to loom over him.  "Were you actually deluded enough to think you could ever be forgiven, that redemption would ever be available to you?"  
  
"Arcade?" she addressed the doctor without looking up.  "Grab that box on my workbench, please?"  
  
The moment he had left, Vulpes found himself being pulled off the bed, falling to the floor.  
  
"It doesn't matter what you were expecting, what you were hoping for, what you're getting is punishment."  The rope connecting his bound wrists to his bound ankles was cut with a stained combat knife, leaving his limbs bound separately.  "Kneel," she commanded, and he struggled to his knees, obeying.  Arcade returned at that moment and wordlessly passed the Courier a small wood box, giving her a skeptical glance before leaving again.  
  
She set the box down on a desk and opened it out of his sight as she spoke again.  "Until you have been forgiven, you will stay here as my pet, my slave, and serve me.  If you've been paying attention, which I know you have..."  The Courier turned around and Vulpes gulped when he saw what she was holding.  Crouched down in front of him now, he tried to back up only to hit the side of the bed, and he heard the click of the slave collar locking tight around his neck.  "...then you'll remember that you will not be forgiven."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not quite happy with the early bits of dialogue this chapter, but I liked how it played out overall, so I just tried to make it work a bit better, and removed references to the plot thread that I made reference to in chapter 3, only to drop it completely after that.
> 
> Speaking of dropping things completely, I think I'm actually going to stick with chapter numbers rather than names.
> 
> If you read the original, you might be able to pick out the bits I really liked. This will apply to most future chapters too, lol.


	3. Chapter 3

Vulpes bowed his head in submission, but left his eyes locked with the Courier's in defiance. A subtle movement, unlikely to catch the attention of a profligate with no experience in dealing with slaves, but practical. The woman remained an enigma to him, and he refused to take his eyes off of her until he found a pattern in her actions, her reactions.

"Not bad, not bad, quick on the uptake. Maybe the Legion was good for something after all." She tilted his head up with a finger under his chin, looking him straight on. Vulpes said nothing.

"You will speak with respect, Vulpes. However, you may continue to speak freely, for now at least."

"You're proving to be full of surprises, Courier. Most prefer their slaves silent. However I will gladly oblige."

"I'm sure you would." She pulled him away from the bed, into the center of the room, and began circling him, inspecting her new acquisition.

"You smell like smoke," she commented with a smirk, wrinkling her nose as if she wasn't well aware of the source, "Go get cleaned up, bathroom's to the left. You're free to take your time, so long as you come straight back here. Though I probably don't need to tell you that."

\-----

Vulpes idly wondered what she meant by that as he unbuttoned his shirt, the Courier already having relieved him of his suit jacket. The water that poured from the shower head was both clean and hot, a luxury that the other casinos didn't always have. Fewer people drawing from a single boiler, if the others were even functional. Maybe he could get used to this.

He tugged at the heavy metal collar clamped around his neck. It was growing uncomfortable with the heat, but thankfully it didn't seem to be affected by the water, as the Courier had said. It wasn't going to short out, but it in itself was still going to be a problem.

Without that hold on him, she was effectively powerless against him. Even with it, she would have to decide between trying to subdue him non-lethally and activating the explosive charges in the collar, wouldn't she? The latter would be reckless in such a confined space, and for the former, nearly no one in her group was particularly skilled in close combat.

Regardless, he would have to be careful. At the very least, keep an eye on the Courier's mood, so he didn't find his life worthless in her eyes.

\-----

Vulpes turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. He hadn't heard the door open, but a towel was set out for him. Next to that towel was a familiar looking piece of off-white fabric, neatly folded. Lifting it up, he sighed as a bright red ‘X’ revealed itself. Of all the souvenirs the Courier could have chosen to bring back from her raid, a set of slave rags left no question as to his new role here.

But he wasn’t about to leave without wearing something, so swallowing his pride he slipped the rags on over his head, smoothing out the fabric and generally trying to make the best of it. So this was what the Courier was referring to when she said he wouldn’t have to be told to come straight back.

He cracked the door to the hall, releasing a cloud of steam from the room as he checked to make sure he would remain unseen. Aside from the Courier herself, as she didn’t seem to be giving him that option.

Luckily, the master bedroom was the next door over and he easily slipped the few feet down the hall to where the Courier was waiting for him.

\-----

Vulpes closed the door behind him and turned to look at the young woman whom he might soon find himself made to call his master. The Courier was waiting for him wearing an Old World military overcoat and an air of confidence. In her gloved hands was a leather crop, and based on intimidation alone she could give a black-clad Veteran Ranger a run for their money.

With a flick of her wrist, the crop pointed him to a stack of papers on her desk. Small slips of paper, embossed in gold... Ah, yes, his lottery tickets. The stack looked about as tall as it had been before he had distributed them, not counting the extra height given by the ones warped by water or fire. His eyes darted from the tickets, to her crop, to her face and back to the tickets, her next words confirming his suspicions.

"Count them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still not quite to the part where the story splits off from the original, aside from removing reference to a horrible dropped plot thread that I don't like to think about. Chapter 4 should be longer. (And it'll probably by more or less the same as the original because I really enjoyed how it turned out. But with less awkward phrasing. ...so what I've been doing.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vulpes' first punishment, of sorts. The Courier herself might not call it that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rewrite of chapter 4, which will hopefully be the last directly re-written chapter, everything after will follow a slightly different series of events. With all the fun parts, of course.

The Courier sat back, watching as Vulpes grabbed the stack of leaflets from the desk. She shook her head when he began to silently flip through them. "Out loud, if you will," she purred.

It was strange to him, being told twice in one night to talk. He hadn’t expecting to be encouraged, unless… He smiled inwardly, having a hunch. What was the harm in having a little fun while testing this theory? He restarted his tally. " _Unus_ , _duo_ , _tres_ , _quattuor_..."

His voice may have threatened to falter as he was reminded of just how many tickets had been made. He tried to keep his thoughts on how amusing his hypothesis was. "... _sexaginta_ _sex_ , _sexaginta_ _septem_." He glanced up, looking for her approval, but her eyes were closed with a smile as she had been listening to him. It looked like he was correct. The Courier opened her eyes.

"Sixty seven, correct?"

She obviously liked the sound of his voice. Vulpes looked back down, avoiding her gaze. He wasn’t sure just what to think yet. "Yes, that is correct. You have a sharp eye, Courier. This is nearly all of them. I assume the rest had been reduced to ash before you had arrived." A sharp eye, or a worrying obsession.

She placed the end of the crop under his chin, tilting his head back. "You're smart, Vulpes, you know full well where I'm going with this. But sixty seven," she shook her head, "is far too many for your first punishment. Especially when you haven’t done anything since you arrived to warrant one. No, any real punishment would then have to be compared to this one."

Vulpes gave a slight nod. "If this were the Legion, you'd find it more practical to... find someone else's infraction to punish them for, and make me watch. Make an example of them."

"Yes, 'Some are punished, the others made to watch,' I believe you said in Nipton. Perhaps after I claim Hoover Dam, I'll take Lanius as a prisoner. Tell the NCR I'll be hanging onto him for them while they're packing up and leaving the Mojave.”

Vulpes froze, processing what she just said. Of all the times he could have possibly learned that the Courier actually intended on taking over. He refocused, realizing she was still speaking.

“But... I don't think either of you will get the right message from watching the other's punishment. For now though you're my only slave, and aren't lacking in crimes to be repaid. Now let's see. Camp Searchlight. I enjoyed paying that back to Cottonwood Cove. Still, the NCR had me retrieve a total of ten dog tags. A nice round number, and more manageable, don’t you think?”

"Yes, it is."

"You should be grateful."

"I am. Thank you."

"Thank you...?" The Courier gestured for him to go on.

"Thank you... master?" he tried, vaguely hopeful.

The Courier gave it some thought. "...that'll be fine. Now, lean over my desk."

Vulpes reminded himself that he had suffered through far worse as he set the tickets down, and positioned himself over her desk. Hearing the Courier approach he braced himself for the first blow, but it didn't come. Instead he felt the soft leather of her gloved hand rubbing at the small of his back. The action was obviously intended to get him to relax, but he refused to give her that opening. He heard the smile in her voice when she pulled her hand back.

"Do what you will. But by the time you've earned your sixty seven lashes all at once, I'll have something that might take care of that."

She hiked up his rags so the bottom of them were around his waist, presenting his ass to her. As she had expected, scars covered his back. Which ones were from whips, and what had he done to earn the lashings? She traced one that ran parallel to his spine, lost in thought for a brief moment. Her marks would fade; she didn't plan on scarring him yet.

The Courier looked over his tense body once more before she brought her riding crop down onto his ass; the first blow to start the night's punishment. The fox yelped abruptly, clamping a hand over his mouth. She must have been lost in thought long enough for him to have dropped his guard.

"Oh my dear Vulpes," she purred, striking his ass with the leather again. "Do you know how excited I am to see you lose your composure?" Another. "It’s not going to happen tonight, we both know that much." A fourth strike and he let himself slip again, letting out a groan. She paused for a moment, tracing the red welts that were forming wherever her crop had met his flesh.

"You're not going to break easily."

_Quinque_.

“Simply reminding you of what you’ve done to deserve this isn’t going to cut it.”

_Sex_.

"Nor will reminding you of your cowardice when I attacked Fortification Hill."

_Septem_.

"Or how the only one willing to take you in, give you a place in the world, is the same person who took everything from you."

_Octo_.

"No, simple words won’t bother you, won’t make you break down."

_Novem_.

"And it’s not like you’d even need me to remind you of these facts."

_Decem_.

"But... I think I enjoy doing so."

Vulpes stayed quiet, trying to keep his breathing steady. It had only been ten lashes, but the Courier's words added to the sting. He turned to look back at her, and saw her hand going for his neck. She grabbed him by the collar, yanking him to his feet with her fingers between the metal and his neck. With a metallic click a chain secured to the front of it. Mercifully she let go, opting to drag him to the other side of the room by his leash, where the other end was secured to an eye bolt in the bedpost.

The Courier turned to her wardrobe while Vulpes sat down on her bed, keeping an eye on her. Without turning she snapped her fingers at him, then pointed down. So he wasn't allowed on the bed it seemed. He flinched a little as he settled down onto the floor, but otherwise stayed quiet. She didn’t seem to mind him watching while she stripped off her overcoat, down to her undershirt and shorts. Putting the garment away, she pulled a blanket and pillow off of the top of the wardrobe. The next thing he knew, the pillow collided with his face.

Vulpes heard her laughing as he pushed the pillow aside, only for the blanket to replace it. The Courier sat down on her bed and pulled a few bobby pins out of her pinned up braid, letting it fall down her back. She then stretched out, smiling down at him as she removed her glasses and set them by the lamp on the nightstand. "Make yourself comfortable and get some rest. Who knows, if you play your cards right, someday I might allow you to sleep at the foot of my bed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit it takes so much more energy to post chapters than actually write them, especially seeing all these new Vulpes fics, it's like "am I going to annoy people browsing NV fics?".
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @ authorrikako where I post snippets of ideas, I've got my KINKtober stuff, and screenshots, and on discord @ Rikako#2669, feel free to message me for an invite to my server where I post stuff that wouldn't get posted anywhere otherwise.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vulpes begins his first full day living with the Courier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I put off writing this for way too long. Getting no feedback on the previous chapter didn't help with the motivation thing. But this chapter is almost as long as the first four combined, so there's that.

Vulpes woke up groggy, to use a mild term. A nightmare? He couldn’t recall the last time he had one of those, nor could he recall having one last night. As soon as he considered this, it came back to him. He sat up-an unfamiliar weight around his neck-and took a better look at his surroundings. The nightmare that wasn’t came back to him all at once.

He glanced over at the bed, noticing that the Courier was no longer occupying it. There were, however, more rags, folded with a key resting on top. The cloth unfolded into a pair of ragged pants, and it came to his attention he had never been given any. It wasn't clear if not having had any was worse than not having realized it. His head felt clearer than it had the prior night. Deciding it was best not to dwell on it, he unlocked the collar. The chain fell to the floor, but the collar remained secure.

*****

The last thing he wanted was for anyone else to see him in this state, but he doubted she’d allow him to remain in her room. He let the smell of cooking lead him to the kitchen, hesitating at the threshold. Glancing around the corner he saw the Courier at one stove, frying up meat and eggs, a pan on each of the burners. At the stove next to her was a nightkin making pancakes. He knew one traveled with the Courier from time to time, but not that it could cook.

The Courier finally noticed him and gestured towards a chair at the table. He took a step, then stopped. There was more meat on the counter, stacked on a plate, and a few more gecko eggs. Next to those was a coffeemaker, and next to that were several coffee mugs. He didn’t want to find out exactly how many guests the Courier had; how many more would see him like this. The Courier looked at him expectantly, waiting. A minute passed before she gave up and turned back to the stove before anything burned.

“Is your pride really that much more important than your stomach?”

Vulpes crossed his arms. “I’ve gone longer without food.”

“While being taunted like this?”

“Yes.”

She shrugged and started dishing out plates. “I figured that.”

He weighed his options, deciding which would give the Courier less satisfaction. He would find this process increasingly vital in the coming weeks. Recomposing himself, he pretended he hadn’t just been waiting anxiously out of sight, pulled a chair out, and sat down. He looked over at the other occupants. As far as he could tell at a glance, this was everyone the Courier had been reported traveling with.

The Followers doctor was there again and was the first one he made eye contact with. The doctor-Arcade, he recalled-immediately broke it, uncomfortable with the reminder of what he helped the Courier do the previous night.

Going around the table sat the Caravanner, Brotherhood Scribe, ghoul, and finally the 1st Recon sniper, on the other side of Arcade. Everyone save for the sniper was looking at him with varying degrees of curiosity and focus, based on how much coffee they had consumed so far. The sniper, meanwhile, wasn’t looking at him, he was outright staring him down. It was clear he had been ordered not to kill him and wasn't enjoying it.

The nightkin brought over two platters full of food, and most of the tension dissipated as everyone dished up their breakfast. The Courier sat next to him, setting down a coffee mug in front of him. He sniffed at it before considering that she could simply force poison down his throat; she didn’t need to be subtle about it. She opened her mouth as he began to take a sip. “That should help you wake up a bit from the Med-X.”

Vulpes coughed as breathed in the hot drink. “What do you mean, Med-X?” he hissed, not caring to make a scene.

The Courier shrugged. “Only a little. You’ve got no tolerance for anything, do you? I don’t know if RadAway would have any side-effects-”

Vulpes cut her off. “RadAway? Why would I…” he rubbed at his eyes. “You just assumed I was irradiated enough to warrant that, disregarding the Legion's own ways of treating radiation poisoning.” He took another drink of coffee, deciding he needed it. “Don’t tell me it was the effects of radiation poisoning that led me to make this horrible decision.” The collar pressed against his throat felt too tight as he swallowed.

The Courier placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “I was getting to that, if you’d let me finish.” Vulpes shrunk back a little, deciding that he likely had made another bad decision. “No, I doubt it was more than you not being used to feeling actual emotions. You being sick just make it a lot easier to knock you out. As for the RadAway, I figured I’d be nice since you just got here, as the only other thing I have on-hand for radiation is a _purgatory_. Next time I’ll remember that you prefer unpleasant treatments.” The way she smiled felt dangerous to him.

“Should’ve just given him that anyway, and all that other herbal shit. We’ve got more than enough of the real stuff, no one else is going to use it,” the caravanner, Cass, added.

The platters came around to their end of the table, and the Courier took it upon herself to put a bit more on his plate than he felt like eating at the moment.

He already knew all the names of her friends, but the Courier decided he needed both a refresher, and a reminder to use their actual names. Boone was to be referred to as such, though anything other than “the Courier’s pet sniper” would be considered an improvement. The nickname made her laugh.

Arcade was not to be referred to as “the Courier’s pet doctor” under any circumstance. The Courier didn’t laugh at this one. “Doctor Gannon” was deemed the most appropriate way of addressing him. The added formality seemed appropriate, since while he didn't owe the doctor his life, it came pretty close. He had then suggested that “the Courier’s conscience” would have been a more accurate nickname. The Courier had added that calling him “doctor” would make it more likely that he would end up treating any illnesses or injuries, rather than herself.

The rest boiled down to "don't insult them". He took that to mean "don't use any insults they would understand".

They had somehow managed to finish every last scrap of food that they had prepared. The table was cleared off, and dishes were neatly stacked in the sink. Someone, of course, then asked who's turn it was.

"Let's forgo that for now. Vulpes will do it. The rest of you have stuff that's actually important to take care of today. He doesn't." The Courier grinned.

Vulpes looked at the large stack of dishes. "What does everyone else have to do that's so important then?"

"Everyone needs to finish gathering their things so they can get a head start on their assignments." She gave him a shove towards the sink. "As do I, though I'm leaving tomorrow. Don't tell me you don't know how to wash dishes."

Of course he knew, and it was silly to argue. What good was protesting it when it was clear it was a job shared by everyone?

*****

The dishes cleaned, Vulpes joined the Courier in the rec room. She glanced up from the gun she was cleaning and patted the spot on the couch next to her. Sitting down, he took a closer look at the weapon. A .45 auto pistol, with writing engraved on the side in a vaguely familiar script. No. No, this wasn't proof he was still alive. This wasn't even proof that he had survived at all, any number of things could have lead to the Courier obtaining that gun.

"Why do you have that gun?" He hesitated to mention him. But what was the point of _damnatio memoriae_ when there soon wouldn't be a Legion to forget him?

"Joshua Graham gave it to me as thanks."

"Thanks for what-" he stopped himself. "No, that's impossible, the Burned Man is dead."

"Hm, I don't know, he seemed pretty alive when I met him in Zion."

"What were you doing in Zion?"

"I'd signed on to a caravan, going to New Canaan. You know how that story ended." Her eyes narrowed, but she kept them focused on her gun. "White Legs killed everyone else with me the moment we arrived in Zion. We wiped out every last one of them, leaving Salt-Upon-Wounds to spread word. Sending them after Graham _was_ supposed to be a tribe-wide suicide mission, right?" It had been, but she didn't pause to let him say so. "But you know? I would have done it even if no one had asked. I would have rid the world of any trace of those useless scavengers _for fun_." She stopped herself, relaxing her sudden tense grip on her pistol. "A...Anyway, seeing as he taught me how to actually maintain a firearm, I figured it would be rude not to properly maintain his gift."

He nodded in agreement, letting silence take over for a while. Vulpes wasn't sure what he was waiting for, if anything. He wasn't sure if he was content to watch the Courier work on her gun. He wasn't. Was _she_ waiting for something?

"Do you feel alright?" Her voice brought him back to reality. She was inspecting him with a slight frown. "Was my estimate off? Was one RadAway treatment not enough? If you feel sick-"

"I'm fine," he cut her off. "I'm sure you gave me more than enough of that." She seemed more concerned that she had gotten something wrong, rather than for his well being.

" _Any_ RadAway is too much in your mind, though. Lost in thought then? It's fine to need time to think, to adjust. Contemplate the decisions that led you here." They both knew he had fucked up. "I've got plenty of books of course, if you'd rather not think too hard yet. If you're waiting for orders, like I said, I'm giving you time. Not _much_ time, mind you."

The sound of people gearing up and preparing to set off was relieving. Vulpes listened as he and the Courier sat in the kitchen, eating lunch. She had glanced at her Pip-Boy and threw together a pair of sandwiches, pulling him from the books he had found. Lunch time, then. He had yet to see a clock anywhere in the suite. A few people had grabbed rations from the fridge, but paid the pair no mind. He took another bite of the sandwich. She hadn't said what the meat was, and he hadn't asked. It looked enough like the Courier's, so unless the _sainted Courier_ was secretly a cannibal, he would be fine.

*****

The elevator doors slid close as the last person left. Finally. His situation was awkward and humiliating enough with the Courier alone, he didn't need six other people witnessing it. He must have made his relief too obvious though.

"You seem glad they're gone. What, are you embarrassed?" the Courier teased.

Vulpes returned his full attention to his sandwich.

"As you should be. I'm not having you dress like that _just_ for the poetic justice of it all, you know."

He still didn't respond. She sounded like she was going to continue regardless, so it hardly mattered.

She put her elbows on the table and leaned forward towards him. "I gave you more to wear while they're here. I figured it would be too much otherwise. For both parties." Her tone darkened. "I didn't have to do that, you know."

Ah, this was the part where it was in his best interest to respond. "No, you didn't. ...Thank you for doing so?" he tried.

"Good, good, you're catching on."

That was the correct answer then, he Had just been obvious about it. He caught himself thinking that he would have to work on it. For the sake of self-preservation, he amended.

"I won't be giving you those when it's just the two of us, of course. Besides, you didn't wear pants in the Legion."

No, but they at least had underwear. Sandwich finished, Vulpes got up to take care of the dishes. The moment he turned to leave, the Courier smacked his ass, making him jump.

"It does look good on you," she commented.

He whipped around, prepared to confront her, but she just stared at him, her neutral expression not matching her actions at all. Of the questions he could think of, none of them gained him anything. Plus, he needed to keep the obedient act up longer still. He settled for storming out of the kitchen without another word.

*****

If one had only the Legion to look at, Vulpes would have been considered an expert on technology. But now, reading the Courier's books on subjects such as computer programming-and he knew they were hers from the handwriting in the margins-he knew he was out of his league here.

The Courier paced in front of the coffee table. "I need to set some ground rules before I leave tomorrow, don't I? Should at least go over what will be relevant." She stopped pacing, turned on her heel to face him, and leaned over, looking down at him. "I feel it's more effective to correct behavior as it happens, wouldn't you agree?"

Vulpes nodded mutely as she loomed over him, and finally set down the book he hadn't actually been reading. Why was she so tall? It took sitting down to realize how big the difference in height really was. She was almost as tall as the Follower's doctor. He knew there was a reason that man was that tall, but he couldn't recall.

"Let's see, where to start? First, if it's locked, it's off-limits. If it has a lock and didn't get locked, it's also off-limits. There is no reason for you to ever need something that's locked away. Stolen weapons will be dealt with harshly. Second, you aren't allowed off of this floor, emergencies aside. Causing an emergency will also be dealt with harshly. If it was an accident, you'll be punished for your stupidity instead. Should I assume you don't need to be told the more obvious rules? Like not to mess with that collar," she said pointedly, glancing at his neck.

He realized that he had been fidgeting with it, and quickly clasped his hands together. If he had a plan, getting on the Courier's bad side in under twenty-four hours was not part of it.

There was the hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth. "I mean you shouldn't try to remove it. I'm not _completely_ unsympathetic, it takes a few days to get used to. Normally, at least."

"Yet you're the one who put this on me."

"So I was. Anyway, I'm giving you a pass for a few more days, but there's a point where you'll only be irritating your skin more than the collar would on its own. I'm sure I can help break you of the habit if needed, though."

Vulpes felt she was a bit too cheerful about this.

*****

The Courier had been wrong when she said he wasn't going to have much time to think about things. The day seemed to drag on. Perhaps if he had felt like reading that wouldn't have been the case. He had tried pacing, but only a few laps of the hallway in the Courier had said he was annoying her, and threatened to sit on him if he didn't stay put.

He didn't enjoy thinking about the situation. Caesar was dead, and the Legion wouldn't last long under Lanius. Dying now would only be giving Lanius one less thing to deal with. There was hardly a Legion left to give his life for. Asking the Courier to kill him had crossed his mind on the way to New Vegas, and again when he had woken up.

For dinner the Courier was busy preparing a batch of rations to replace what had been taken by her companions. So dinner consisted of the leftovers from that tossed on a plate. She split an apple with him, eating while she worked instead of sitting down.

"I thought the others were supposed to be your subordinates?"

"Cooking is done by whoever happens to be around to do it."

Vulpes may have been hoping she would take offense to get her to say more. There couldn't be that many more hours left in the day, could there?

Maybe there had been, but the Courier cut the day short. She went to bed early, which meant he went to bed early. "I'm leaving for the Big MT at sunrise," she had said before securing the chain by her bed to his collar. She climbed into her bed and turned off the light, leaving him to sleep on the floor once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got the next few chapters at least mapped out, so the next update shouldn't take half a year. Also, this time around it's going to be a little bit longer before Vulpes is outright told the nature of his captivity, but he'll be getting another hint or two before that. Should be fun.
> 
> Keep in mind it's physically impossible to "bother" me, I can always be reached at authorrikako on tumblr, or messaged for my discord. I post a lot of little one-offs from this series on tumblr, only some of which are going to be reworked into actual scenes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the Courier's away the Fox will play--wait, no. The Fox will be very very bored. Bored to the point where he makes a bad decision or two when someone does return.

Vulpes awoke the next day to the sound of the Courier going back and forth across the room, swapping gear from her backpack and putting things away. Securely, if the clicking of weapon crates being locked was any indication.

"I would be an idiot to trust you for five minutes alone in a room with a knife, let alone several hours with several rooms full of firearms and explosives."

He was already aware. "It's refreshing to hear someone openly admit their distrust."

"You haven't given me a reason to pretend to trust you."

"So I haven't."

His "clothes" as the Courier called them were set out neatly on the bed right beside him. Good, it seemed to be a pants day.

The Courier buttoned up her shirt, sat down on the bed to lace up her boots, and tucked her jeans into them. "Whether you eat is up to you, but those boxed lunches are off-limits. Knives are off-limits too, so…

Vulpes noticed his head felt clearer than it had the previous day. She might not have drugged him overnight then. He kept his eyes on her. She moved around quite a bit, but at some point she had to... _there_. The lock at his neck clicked open, chain falling to the floor with a clatter. He didn't look down, keeping his eyes on the hand she held the key in. A few more laps around the room and he caught her slipping the key into the drawer of the nightstand. _The nightstand to the right of the bed, next to where he slept._ He brought his attention back to the Courier herself.

"…might get back before I do. So don't do anything stupid, okay?"

He hadn't been listening, and if he asked her to repeat herself, she would get suspicious about what he _was_ focusing on if not her words. If she would even repeat herself for him in the first place. "Understood."

"Good. So—crap, running late—I should give you something to keep you busy." She swung her messenger bag over her shoulder. "Clean... Everything."

"Everything?" he echoed, suspecting she hadn't heard herself.

"Dust anything that's dusty and then wipe down the counters and table in the dining room. There should be dust rags and cleaning supplies in a cabinet. Might not be much though, so read a book or something if you get bored." The Courier holstered her .45 on one hip and a strange black energy pistol that glowed blue on the other, then glanced at her Pip-Boy. "And then I need to get across the crater by noon. This is why I don't schedule things with Mobius before I've arrived." She barely glanced at him before making for the elevator. The doors opened the moment she reached them and closed the moment she had stepped all the way inside.

* * *

Vulpes paced back and forth in the hallway like a caged animal. An animal in a luxury cage with hot and cold running water, comfy beds he wasn't allowed to sleep in, plenty of food, no windows, and no way to tell the time. How long would it take to go insane in this place if he remained in isolation?

The Courier had said she needed to be at the Big MT—whatever that was—at sunrise. It still had to be before dawn, as she had said she was _running_ late, not that she was _already_ late. If the sun was up while she was leaving, she would have already been late. But that was only if she had been literal. It could have been dawn right now, or it still could be hours away, depending on how far it was, and what she had meant.

Labor was a familiar way of passing the time, and the Courier had given him a task. But it was busywork. Busywork that someone else had done, it seemed. There had been some dust on the top edges of the picture frames, and a bit on the lighting fixtures, but the rag was otherwise spotless. Even the vent grates were almost spotless as if someone had cleaned them recently. Was this another one of their shared chores? There were still the counters and table in the kitchen though. He knew for a fact they hadn't been cleaned since yesterday's breakfast at least, so that gave him some gratification.

Now he was free to stick his nose where the Courier didn't want it. Starting with business, checking anything with a lock. Only one crate had anything of remote interest, and that was the crate beside her workbench. It contained bits and pieces of leather armor, all in varying states of disrepair. Junk used for patching up the armor that had actual use, no doubt. Sifting through for a while he found a full set that was more or less intact. But was it worth it? It wasn't a weapon, so it wasn't disobeying orders if he were to stash it away. But the only potential use it had was in an escape attempt, there was no way the Courier wouldn't see that.

Trust was a tricky thing here. _He_ knew he wasn't going to just up and betray her. He still wasn't sure of his reasons for coming to her, but it hadn't been to kill her. But if he were perfectly obedient she would get suspicious as she had no reason not to expect him to push back. She had decided he needed to be taught lessons, and those would be of little use if there were no infractions to punish him for.

Vulpes removed the shoulder armor and arm guard, then sifted through the pockets. There was a combat knife in the back pocket. Sheathed, but still a knife. He left it there, folding the armor up and returned to the master bedroom, stashing it under the blankets that served as his bed. It would serve a dual purpose then. Provide an infraction he could claim ignorance on and allow him a way out.

But now he was bored again, and dwelling on his situation too long would make him go insane that much faster. The Courier had mentioned books, but forcing himself to read one could end up stretching the day out. He paced in front of her bookshelf, wishing he had his books. The books Caesar had given him years ago. He snatched the first book that stood out off the shelf and went to sit back down in the dining room, having decided that he should eat something.

The book that had caught his eye was titled Julius Caesar, but he quickly discovered it was less a novel and more a script. A script written in six hundred year old English, if you could call it that. His knowledge of Latin was of no use here. He wished he had grabbed the programming manual again, even if he didn't understand the subject, he didn't need a translator for that. He could focus on eating, then.

There wasn't much to eat that didn't require a knife if he didn't want to look like a dog tearing at a steak. Mystery chunks of meat didn't sound appealing, and neither did the mysteriously pristine fruit. Anything else that wasn't off-limits was pre-war. He wasn't that desperate.

Settling for the mystery meat, he found it palatable enough between two slices of bread. He reminded himself that the Courier had killed Mortimer ages ago. He turned the page of the book set beside the plate, still uncertain of the meaning of the words, and realized that his focus was slipping. Boredom would do that, but that wouldn't explain why his body felt worn out. It wasn't that the food was poisoned or had gone off, he'd already been feeling tired after cleaning. But that hadn't been enough work to make him feel tired normally, and especially not to make him feel tired for _this long_. However long it had been. He picked at his sandwich and skimmed the book a while longer.

* * *

His reading was interrupted by the grinding sound of the elevator, followed by the clatter of the doors opening. Vulpes leaned back in his chair to peek through the doorway, and caught a brief flash of red. It seemed the NCR dog was the first to return. Maybe today wouldn't be as dull as he thought it would be.

Under the pretense of exchanging his book for a different one, Vulpes followed Boone into the room a few moments after him. Boone put the last of his gear into the footlocker and turned to glare at him, nearly slamming it shut. Vulpes shrugged and turned his back to him, scanning the bookshelf after replacing the other book. He did actually look over the selection; he wasn't acting. Turning back around in disappointment over the dull selection wasn't acting either.

Boone sat down on the couch, dropping a backpack full of every type of power cell. Microfusion cells, energy cells, and electron charge packs... All of this for what, to sell? The doctor was the only one who carried an energy weapon, and that only took the standard energy cells. He pulled the cells out one at a time, separating them into piles by type. Either for the Courier, or out of boredom.

Vulpes took a seat in a chair opposite the couch across the table, watching Boone separate charged cells from drained ones, glancing casually at the large bag full of them. "Out killing Fiends, not Legionaries? Need any help?"

"The only ones left are cowards who won't cross the river. And no. Not from a slaver."

"Better a slaver than a murderer."

"Yeah, but you're both."

"My kill count is much lower than yours."

"Only because you get others to do it for you. You killed everyone at Camp Searchlight without lifting a finger."

"And thanks to my work, the Legion was able to move across the river into Cottonwood Cove. Speaking of which, I'm sure you remember your first visit there. It's a shame you made the judgment you did, robbing your wife and child of any future they may have had."

"Slavery isn't a future."

"Slavery is something people have been known to escape from. And even if she hadn't, if you couldn't, she still would have lived. Slaves in the Legion should be grateful they were allowed to live,  _honored_ to be able to serve it in one way or another."

"If you actually believed that, you wouldn't be clawing at that collar."

Vulpes was pulled out of his rant abruptly, confused. "What?"

"Your neck is red, under that _slave_ _collar_ the Courier put on you," Boone gestured towards his own neck. "It'll bleed if you scratch any more." Vulpes hadn't noticed himself tugging at the collar, or scratching at his neck, but it seemed he had. "Should be grateful you were allowed to live, honored to be able to serve."

He wasn't going to take that sitting down. So Vulpes stood and punched him in the jaw.

Boone took the punch, glaring at him from behind his sunglasses, then grabbed the former frumentarius by the front of his shirt and shoved him out into the hall, following up with a punch of his own. Vulpes ducked and brought his guard up before Boone could close the distance. The sniper caught up and made a grab for his arm, but Vulpes was fast on his feet. Fast, but physically tired. Something was wrong, he had more years training in close combat than Boone was old. He couldn't dwell on it long, Boone wasn't letting up.

Focused only on injuring the other, neither heard the elevator ding or the doors clatter open. 

Not until the Courier stormed out. Wielding her cattle prod, it took only a few long strides to close the distance between them, where she then lashed out with it in time with her final step, hitting both of them right in the stomach, one after the other. The two fell instantly.

"Yes Man, I don't know what I did to deserve you. Aside from killing Benny," the Courier muttered to herself. She sighed and nudged Boone and Vulpes with her foot. "You're still down there out of shame, right? Please tell me it's shame and I didn't have this thing set too high."

Vulpes shook off the shock—in both senses—while trying to get to his feet. Cattle prods weren't designed to incapacitate brahmin, yet that was exactly what it had done to him. But while the Courier's weapon looked unassuming at a glance, the standard batteries had been replaced by a pair of microfusion cells. Certainly would explain the punch of the thing, he considered bitterly, dusting himself off despite the complete lack of it.

Boone was back on his feet too, but the Courier still looked down at them with her height advantage. She gestured to the couch against the wall. "Sit. Both of you." The sniper didn't hesitate, sitting down as close to one end as physically possible, Vulpes doing the same on the other end. The Courier paced in front of them, hands clasped behind her back.

"I don't know what I expected," she began. "Maybe I should have realized you would run out of Fiends to shoot before Julie ran out of things for Arcade to help with. Maybe I shouldn't have just shrugged at the idea of the two of you being alone here for an hour or two. Maybe," she stopped and turned to face them, "I should be glad I didn't return to worse." Her dark eyes flicked between the two of them behind her glasses. "I don't want or need an explanation. I don't expect you to apologize to each other. I don't expect either of you to be capable of doing it even insincerely. No, I want you two to apologize to  _me_ for wasting  _my_ energy."

"Sorry. Ma'am."

"I apologize."

"I don't think it's too much to ask to not have to come home ready to incapacitate someone. Vulpes," she gestured towards him with the cattle prod, close enough to his face that he could feel his hair stand up from the charge. "I expected you to pretend to behave a bit longer, or ignore him. Boone. I gave you  _orders_ . I expect almost nothing from a prisoner, but when was the last time I questioned your loyalty? Back when it was you questioning mine, wasn't it? Before we'd even reached Freeside? You should have at least thought before engaging." She smiled and hooked her weapon back on her belt, powering it down. "Though I didn't expect you to think of a comeback like that. I'm impressed."

Vulpes and Boone looked up at her, having been certain she hadn't arrived until after the fight broke out. She moved before either one could come up with something to say, leaning over Vulpes. She reached out and tilted his chin up—which he allowed without much thought—and inspected the bulky collar, shifting it up and running her finger over the irritated skin. It stung a bit now that it was brought to his attention. She sighed and stood back up. "I'll get some salve for that, but if you keep that up to the point where it bleeds, you'll wake up with your hands tied behind your back."

He didn't know when he'd been tearing at his neck. 

* * *

It must have been night when the Courier returned, as not long after chewing him and Boone out, she ordered him to get cleaned up for the night. Upon returning to her room, she was quick to tether him back to her bed, seeming not to suspect anything.

She took off her glasses as she made herself more comfortable than he would be able to achieve. "I'd been thinking," she began, putting him on edge, "about what I said. How there's no way to actually get you or Boone to apologize. I don't need Boone to, you're the guilty one any way you look at it. Apologies don't matter, and you still need to be punished. So I'll have you do something to make it up to him tomorrow." She flipped off the light, apparently done discussing it.

Perhaps taking the armor had been a bad idea. His training assured him that he could sleep almost anywhere, but he couldn't find a comfortable position that didn't run the risk of the Courier seeing it. Sleep was postponed then. More time to think. About things like what she meant by "something". Doing work of some sort? He doubted the sniper would let him—or anyone else for that matter—touch his gear to assist in maintenance. And the Courier wouldn't allow him to touch any weapons. Something like a favor then? But what sort of "favor" could he possibly be capable of in his position...?

_No._ His stomach twisted into a knot. He didn't know the Courier very well yet personally, but he could see her being capable of such a thing. Capable of shoving him to his knees at the sniper's feet, forcing him to watch as he unbuckled his belt at eye-level... He was leaving tonight.

Keeping his head low, Vulpes pulled the key out of the drawer, then held the chain as he unlocked it, setting it down as silently as possible. He wouldn't get a second chance. It was a little tricky, changing clothing in the dark while lying down, but fixing either of those things would risk him getting caught. Stay out of the Courier's potential line of sight, keep her from noticing any movement. The door out opened and closed without a sound.

If the elevator wasn't still on this floor, his plan was ruined. The Courier or Boone would hear the elevator approaching and likely go to check. But there was no one on any other floor, or shouldn't be, so it should only need to open. He pressed the call button and sighed in relief even as the doors clattered open. He rushed in and pushed the button for the ground floor. He was prepared to run the moment the doors opened. If he was being pursued, from the moment the doors closed behind him he would have as much time as it took to reach the 22nd floor and come back down.

He gulped and was reminded of the weight around his neck. The Courier hadn't given him a range, or any specification at all about it. If it exploded the moment he stepped outside, so be it. The elevator shuddered to a stop, and he collected himself, running the moment the doors opened enough for him to slip through. Jumped down the stairs, shoved through the doors... And found himself still in one piece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another longer chapter, which required a lot more fretting and editing and finally finally finally posting. A bit later than I'd hoped to, but it's done.
> 
> Next chapter will have the scene that I wrote like 10 chapters of the original fic trying to avoid figuring out, and I think I'm seriously going to need help if I don't want to take another 6 months before posting it.
> 
> I post little spin-off and tie-in things on my tumblr @rikakowrites, things that might happen in future chapters, things that won't happen, and things that happen way after the setting of this fic. Feel free to say hi!


End file.
